


The Grotto

by Bunney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunney/pseuds/Bunney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the wedding of their friends, can Draco and Hermione put their past behind long enough to discover each other?</p><p>Written for the "Hot Summer Nights with Draco and Hermione", for the DMHG Fic Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grotto

Hermione Granger wondered what madness had possessed her to have considered attending Ron Weasley's wedding to Pansy Parkinson. 

Oh, she could've taken Harry's advice and considered the week-long celebration as a long overdue holiday, but frankly she was finding it hard to put aside the blistering bitterness that dogged her with every sight of the happy couple. It was, in her opinion, quite sickening. Not to mention crass. Uncouth. She could almost understand Ron; he was a man and known for his penchant for public displays of affection. But tiny, dark-haired Pansy, arctic-cold and not at all prone to sharing her affection for all to see...well, she had apparently tossed that sentiment aside because everywhere Hermione turned, she and Ron were snogging and practically undressing each other with their eyes, their hands and anything else that handily appeared. Even Priscilla Parkinson, Pansy's indulgent mother, had finally given to turning and walking the other direction upon seeing her daughter, mussed and shameless, in _that Weasley boy's_ arms. 

The betrothal ceremony itself had not yet taken place; that would be late Saturday afternoon. For the past three days, Hermione had gone to sleep thinking of new and inventive ways of ditching the ceremony without pissing off Ron or Harry. No workable solutions had presented themselves and now, the countdown was in hours rather than days. 

Wanting to include their unlikely mix of friends and family, Ron and Pansy had invited everyone to the Greek island of Thira, where Pansy's Aunt Xanthi owned a magnificent, centuries-old villa overlooking the caldera that was once the volcano of Santorini. The location couldn't have been more romantic. Every day since their arrival had been nothing short of perfect; Hermione was quite positive she'd never seen a sky so blue as the one above the Aegean isle.

 _Less than a day now,_ Hermione thought wearily. It was Friday evening and many of the large group of celebrants had wandered down the hillside to Atanakos to party the night away in the village's many tourist-filled nightspots. Even the more hardcore pureblood supremacists amongst the extended Parkinson-Roussos clan had let down their metaphorical hair and managed to enjoy rubbing elbows with the many Muggles crowding the black volcanic sand beaches and the quaint cafes and _tabernas_. Even if that rubbing of elbows required generous amounts of _ouzo_ and _retsina_ to ease the way. 

Harry and Ginny had tried to get her to come with them that evening, but having been out on the town every night prior, Hermione had begged off with a headache, telling her friends that she preferred to have a light dinner in her room, then read over a cup or two of tea. Ginny had accepted the lie as fact, while Harry had given her a piercing look of disbelief. Hermione managed a wan smile that she was certain her best friend could see right through, but Harry made no further comment other than to extract a promise from her that she would send a house-elf if she needed him. The plain fact of the matter was that Hermione was bored and lonely and wished more than anything that she was at home in her own flat, with a purring Crookshanks at her feet and a good book on her lap. But, like Harry, Ron meant the world to her and while she might've disagreed with his unorthodox choice of bride, she was determined to be there to support him on this momentous step into adulthood.

_Or, as close to adulthood as Ron was likely to get._

Hermione drew the line at partying with Pansy's relatives, however, all of whom had looked down their snobbish noses at her from the very minute she stepped gracefully out of the swirling whirlwind of the portkey. Aunt Xanthi herself had raised a penciled black eyebrow upon her introduction to Hermione and in a heavily-accented voice, merely said, "Ze _Muggleborn_ girl? Here, in my _epavli_?" Pansy, to her credit, had apologized to Hermione later, but the damage was done. As Pansy began counting down the days to her blessed ceremony, Hermione counted the days until she could return home.

She and Ron had tried to make it work. After the events of sixth year, after being surrounded by the urgency of war, they'd turned to each other for comfort. But within months, weeks even, it became abundantly clear that they were much better off as friends. The split was amicable and their friendship weathered the storm, but it still hurt Hermione, deep inside where she would never allow it to see the light of day, that Ron had almost immediately turned to Pansy Parkinson for emotional – and sexual - release. Release that quickly and unexpectedly blossomed into love. Within a few short weeks of their first interlude, Pansy had given Ron the understanding that they were going to be married, his wealth, or lack thereof, bedamned. It had taken another two months and two monthly cycles before Pansy was able to convince her mother and grandmother that she wasn't pregnant, just in love. 

Pug-nosed Pansy, who had not only turned in her own Death Eater father to the Order, but proved to be one of their most fervent and tireless members, had returned to Hogwarts late one night after the war had gone into full swing. With her she'd brought most of her family, the majority of which had been ignorant of the Parkinson patriarch's involvement in the war, and Draco Malfoy. The fugitive Malfoy had been even less welcome than Pansy in the beginning and he hadn't bothered to endear himself to anyone. Yet at Pansy's urging, Draco had offered what help he could to the Order of the Phoenix and over time, he was accepted by the members, many of whom were fellow classmates.

He had arrived on Thira the same day as Hermione, looking even less happy than she about the upcoming nuptials. He ignored her. Despite the fact that she had been the first of the Order to accept him into their fold, she mostly avoided him and gave him little reason or opportunity to speak to her back home. So, he hadn't bothered with her here. Still, she often felt the weight of his stare on her, no doubt thinking up new and inventive insults to hurl her way. It was only due to her own diligence that Draco found himself without an occasion to voice them.

Swallowing the last of the champagne from the glass she held lightly in her hand, Hermione found a house-elf at her side in an instant to offer a refill. _Why not?_ she thought. It wasn't as if she would be the only drunken person in residence tonight. She held her glass out and the tiny elf filled it to the brim then, before she could thank him, disappeared with a pop. She was alone in the house, with the exception of the elves, so she padded barefoot downstairs and out onto the patio. Merrily burning torches glowed against the weathered white stone and sparkled on the surface of the swimming pool. The villa really _was_ lovely and had the occasion been any other, Hermione would have been enjoying herself immensely.

She walked over to the edge of the pool, dipping her toes into the warm, crystalline water. It shimmered blue-green, the color reflecting off the intricate mosaic on the bottom. The pattern was distinctly erotic; gods and goddesses cavorted in nude abandon, many of them caught in rather graphic postures which brought a faint blush to Hermione's cheeks. It was quite exquisite, but who on earth would have something so blatantly _sexual_ on the floor of their swimming pool? With the ebb and flow of the water, the figures appeared to be in motion. Or perhaps it was charmed to be so, like wizarding photographs. The thought intrigued Hermione; perhaps a closer look would give her some insight into the puzzle.

This was the first time since she'd arrived that she had a chance to use the swimming pool without other guests nearby and the idea of a solitary swim on such a warm evening appealed greatly to Hermione. With a satisfied nod, she returned to her room to change into her swimsuit.

*****

The water was silky and still warm from the day's sun as Hermione dove in, surfacing several feet from the tiled edge. Turning so that she was floating on her back, she stared up at the blanket of stars above, the Milky Way curving overhead like a gauzy ribbon. It was so quiet that she could hear the distant sound of music and revelry from the village at the base of the hill; it was an odd and melancholy sound, and to shake off the sudden loneliness, Hermione turned again and dove for the bottom of the pool.

The mosaic was glorious up close and Hermione had to return to the surface for air three times in order to look at the entire thing. Each individual tile sparkled and glittered, as diamond-like as the stars above and as colorful as the rainbow. She returned to the bottom for a fourth time, her breath escaping in clouds of tiny bubbles as she ran her fingers over the representation of a blond, bronzed Apollo. He was deliciously nude, his back arched in pleasure as a naiad, her blue eyes knowing and lecherous, stroked his erect penis. Hermione reached up to sweep her hair out of her eyes, loathe to lose a single moment of study before she was forced to return to the surface.

As it was, the decision was taken out of her hands.

The muted sound of another body diving into the pool made her jerk around, but she saw nothing in the wake left behind the stranger's dive. In the next moment, an arm locked around her middle and jerked her so hard for the surface that her remaining air was released in a _whoosh_ and she began to struggle in earnest. She could not see her attacker; her back was pressed against his chest and her hair had swirled around her head like a veil. Unceremoniously, she was hauled upward towards the pool's surface.

Hermione gasped for breath as they broke the surface and she pushed herself away from the stranger's arm as he – yes, it was a man – tried to pull her to the side. "Wh-what on earth? Have you gone utterly daft?" she shrieked as she managed to kick her way to the edge. She scraped at her hair, shoving the thick curls back so she could get a look at the man who had nearly drowned her.

Draco Malfoy glared back at her, gasping for breath as well, his white button-down and black trousers clinging to his body and making him look rather like a skinny, drowned rat.

 _Or a ferret,_ Hermione thought nastily. 

"I was saving your life, you stupid twat!" he snapped peevishly, as he heaved himself up onto the tile. 

"Saving my life? I wasn't dying, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled in return, swimming over to the edge and pulling herself up. "You nearly killed me!"

Draco pushed himself to his feet, plucking distastefully at his shirt, which was plastered to his chest. "Well, it looked like you were drowning yourself in misery."

" _Misery_? Over what?" 

He shrugged as he unbuttoned the shirt and stripped it off. Despite her fury, Hermione found herself revising her earlier opinion. _Okay, not so much like a ferret then..._

"Weasel. Pansy. You can't lie to me, Granger. It has your knickers in a right twist, doesn't it?" He tossed the shirt over the edge of a nearby chair, smirking at her from beneath his dripping fringe.

Hermione's cheeks flushed magenta as Draco hit on that inescapable fact. She turned away but not before he saw the truth reflected on her face. "I knew it! You _are_ jealous!" he crowed in satisfaction.

"I am not!" Hermione snapped, whirling back around to face him, her hair spraying droplets of water in his face. "I'm very happy for Ron and...Pansy. It's just..."

Draco crossed him arms over his bare chest, drawing Hermione's eyes involuntarily back to his broad shoulders. "It's just...what, Granger? It's not like the two of you are actually suited to each other. You should be grateful to Pansy for being there and taking him off your hands. Leaving you free for more deserving wizards."

Hermione was not sure she had ever been as livid as she was at this moment. The palm of her hand itched to wipe the smug grin off the annoying bastard's face. She took a deep breath, trying valiantly to rein in her fury. "That is absolutely none of your business, Malfoy. If Pansy's such a catch, why'd you let her go?" She could have bitten her tongue off in the next instant; the infuriating arse was going to find some way to turn her words against her.

"Why do you care, Granger? You want a taste of what Pansy's missing?" he said with a smirk and a subtle roll of his hips. Hermione closed her eyes, gritting her teeth in an effort to hold back the tears of anger beginning to gather at the corner of her eyes. Her chest hurt, like a lead weight was resting between her breasts. She had swallowed a bit of water on their way up and she was feeling vaguely nauseous.

"You really haven't changed, have you, Malfoy?" she said, shaking her head in disgust. "You're still the same disgusting, vulgar little boy you always were in school. You have no idea what real feelings are, do you? No wonder Pansy left you...you probably make her utterly sick. You make _me_ utterly sick."

During Hermione's vicious rant, Draco's self-satisfied smirk faded, replaced by something Hermione wasn't expecting and therefore, ignored. 

Hurt. 

After years of enduring verbal abuse from him at Hogwarts, Hermione had never been able to reciprocate and actually make it hurt. The evidence of her success now left her breathless and filled with a painful sort of grief. The tears she'd been hiding finally spilled forth as she covered her mouth with one hand to muffle her sob. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Before he could strike back at her, Hermione pushed past him and ran into the house, not stopping until she was in her room with the door locked behind her. Throwing herself down on the crisp white duvet, she gave over to the pain and jealousy that Draco had so accurately identified.

*****

The wedding went off without a hitch. Hermione sat in the cool and bright little chapel and watched dispassionately as Pansy joined Ron at the altar and they exchanged their vows in soft, tearful voices. Harry reached over and squeezed her hand once, but Hermione quickly disengaged herself, not wanting his small kindness to rekindle the tears she'd shed so copiously the night before. 

Hermione hadn't been happy with Ron as his lover, but giving him up to another woman would take a lot of getting used to. Like she had told Draco, she was happy for Ron and Pansy. How could she not be when they were gazing at each other ardently, love and desire for each other so bold in their eyes it nearly made her blush? 

While Ron and Pansy shared their first kiss as a wedded couple, Hermione surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder, looking for Draco. He was sitting on the other side of the church, in the back, and he was staring right at her. Their eyes met briefly and Hermione felt the old tension rising again, that irrational fear that she was to be the target of his wrath. But she was surprised when he smiled sadly, one eyebrow quirking up in recognition of their shared pain. She'd only just allowed her lips to curve up in response when the recessional began, the music swelling joyfully as the newest Weasley couple hugged tightly and made their way down the aisle. Hermione held Draco's gaze, even after Ron and Pansy passed between them in a profusion of white silk and the scent of imported gardenias. 

"Hermione? Are you ready?" Ginny asked, leaning towards her from Harry's other side. Hermione nodded. 

"I am."

*****

After drinking several toasts to the happy couple, Hermione excused herself from Harry and Ginny and made her way through the crowd to slip into the house. Instead of waiting for the downstairs loo, she returned to her room and _en suite_. After finishing her personal business, she walked out onto the attached balcony and sat down at the tiny cafe table tucked into the corner, not yet ready to return to the reception.

The memory of her confrontation with Malfoy last night intruded on her thoughts. She hadn't meant to say such horrible things to him; Draco Malfoy may have been an obnoxious prat for most of his life, but he wasn't a complete lost cause. Along with most of the wizarding world, Hermione had been surprised and skeptical when Malfoy had emerged relatively unscathed from the war, even though his family name and fortune had not. After Harry had given the testimony that cleared Malfoy's name from the events of their sixth year at Hogwarts, Malfoy had thrown himself headfirst into the task of rebuilding his life – both financially and personally. 

While the financial recovery was easy, his personal healing seemed as hesitant as Hermione's own. She'd recognized the loneliness in his eyes, but ignored it. She had seen the hurt she'd inflicted on him and it rebounded doubly on her. Tears welled in her eyes again as she recalled her words to him by the pool and the way his gaze had flared with pain, then shuttered protectively seconds later. 

Hermione wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, resolving to apologize again to Malfoy. Her behavior was abominable and he deserved better. 

Rising from the table to go back downstairs, Hermione paused when she heard Pansy's distinctive nasal voice. It wasn't nearly as irritating as it had been in school; time and maturity had deepened and smoothed her tone, but Hermione still found herself cringing slightly at the sound.

_"Draco!"_

Hermione froze. He was sitting right below her balcony!

 _"Pansy. Shouldn't you be with your groom, celebrating your happy day?"_ Draco drawled lazily.

Pansy laughed softly, happily. _"Even happy brides have to use the loo and it's not an easy task with a dress this huge."_

_"Ahh. Therein lies the truth of why witches go to the loo in groups."_

_"Congratulations, you've discovered our terrible secret. Witches pee in tandem. So, what has you over here by yourself, sulking in fine Malfoy fashion?"_

Hating herself for it, Hermione crept closer to the edge of the balcony, the thick stone muffling her steps. Crouching down, she strained to hear Malfoy's reply. However, Pansy replied for him.

 _"Your little scheme didn't work, did it? I told you, Draco. She'll never see you as anything but an evil, nasty Death Eater wannabe,"_ Pansy said quietly, with more compassion than Hermione would have credited her with. _"Don't give me that look! You know I like Granger just fine these days. Still...Draco, you could have anyone!"_

_"I don't want anyone, Pans. I want her."_

_"Why? Why Granger? She treated you horridly in school and she's not too nice to you now."_

Hermione sat frozen on the balcony, one hand pressed over her lips in shock. _Her? Malfoy wanted her?_ She mirrored Pansy's thought. _Why?_

Malfoy's laugh was bitter. _"Why indeed? I treated her worse, Pans. I treated her like filth. She's not...she's not. She gave me a chance, she gave me the benefit of the doubt after I returned. Because of her, Potter testified for me and kept me out of Azkaban. Why do you think I hang around the Ministry all the time? Not for the entertainment I can tell you."_

Pansy's sigh carried all the way to Hermione's ear. _"Of all the women you could've fallen for, why did it have to be Hermione Granger? Draco, I swear, you never do anything by half, do you?"_

Not waiting for Malfoy's reply, Hermione scrambled to her feet and fled back into the safety of her room, reeling from what she'd just overheard.

*****

The wedding was followed by a delicious and traditional Greek supper served out on the torch-lit patio. The reception was to follow and would carry on into the wee hours of the next morning. Excusing herself from the table, Hermione found herself drawn once again to the edge of the pool, looking through the sun-dappled aqua water. The erotic mosaic at the bottom sparkled and shimmered up at her.

He wanted her.

After what she'd heard earlier, Hermione had found her thoughts full of nothing but Draco Malfoy. When she'd returned from the loo, he and Pansy had already returned to the party and Hermione immediately put distance between them. Alone with her thoughts, she deconstructed last night's events in her mind.

Draco had thought she was drowning and leapt into the pool, fully dressed, to save her. She had repaid him with vicious insults. Ten years ago, she would have been fully justified, but now? When was the last time he'd actually said anything mean-spirited to her? Hermione could not actually remember and once more, she was filled with shame at her behavior. Now, with the knowledge that he wanted her, if what she'd heard was indeed true...Hermione realized that it changed everything. Perhaps she could actually acknowledge the attraction that had always seemed to simmer between them... 

"Deep thoughts, Granger?" the source of her musings drawled from behind her. Hermione smiled nervously as Draco joined her at the side of the pool, his arm brushing hers as he took a sip of champagne.

"The deepest. You?" Hermione said as she looked over at him. His white-blond hair glowed golden in the dying sunlight, the longish ends curling over the collar of his ice blue dress robes.

"I'm giving up deep thoughts for Lent," he said, giving her a wry, lopsided smile.

Hermione laughed, feeling his full gaze on her as she shook her head in amusement. "You aren't Catholic, Malfoy."

He pressed one hand to his chest. "Shot down on a technicality." 

Hermione turned to face him, finding him watching her with a bemused expression. "I want to apologize for last night. I was rude and completely out-of-line."

Draco looked as if he wanted to argue, holding up his hand at one point, but Hermione reached out and wrapped her fingers around his, forestalling anything he was about to say. "I suppose I am a little jealous, but Ron and I broke up voluntarily and he's in love with Pansy and she with him..."

At this, they both turned to look at the newlywed couple, holding court at the main table, surrounded by friends and family. Hermione smiled at the look on Pansy's face as she leaned forward and kissed Ron on the lips. "They're happy and therefore, so am I."

Draco turned his hand so that his fingers were now clasping hers. He brought her hand to his lips and graced her fingers with a light kiss. "He's a lucky man. Pansy is a truly wonderful person now. Now that she's grown up."

"Growing up is hard, isn't it?" Hermione whispered, self-conscious of her hand still clasped in Draco's.

"You're telling me." He turned and grinned down at her. "So, Granger. You up for another swim?"

"Now? Here?" 

Draco's eyes had drifted down to her lips and Hermione dismissed the brief look of longing on his face as a trick of her imagination. "Yes and no."

"Yes to the swim, no to...?" Hermione asked, confused by his answer.

"Have you seen the grotto yet?"

"The grotto? No, where is it?"

Draco set his empty glass down on a nearby table and took her other hand, lacing his fingers through hers and bringing a deeper blush to Hermione's cheeks. He looked disconcertingly like a little boy thinking inappropriate and naughty thoughts. "On Milos."

"Milos! Malfoy, we can't just go haring off to Milos during the reception!"

He wrinkled his nose petulantly, looking far too adorable for Hermione's taste. "Why not? It's not like this party isn't going to last all night long. Come on, Granger, they won't even miss us."

He was right. Supper was long over and many of the over one hundred guests had changed into more comfortable party clothes and swimsuits. A dance floor had been set up and some of the younger guests had already taken it over. Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione smiled. "Okay. I'll need to grab my swimsuit, though."

"I'll meet you out front, then. You don't mind flying, do you?" Draco casually asked as they threaded their way through the tables towards the house. Hermione stopped dead. 

"Fly? We're going by _broom_?" Hermione squeaked, letting go of his hand.

Draco's smile was teasing and undeniably warm. "I won't let you fall. I promise."

Before Hermione could back out, Draco reached out and grabbed her hand in his, pulling her the rest of way into the dim, cool interior of the house.

*****

Hermione had ridden on Buckbeak, during third year, and on a then-invisible Thestral two years later, but aside from her few failed attempts at sitting a broom, she had given up the idea of magical flight as transportation. She was not at all fond of heights and she had a natural aversion to anything at which she did not excel, so flying on a narrow stalk of wood was high on her list of Things Hermione Can't Do. 

After changing into a bikini and throwing a thin cotton sundress over it, Hermione joined Draco outside on the front lawn. He'd shed the blue silk dress robes for a pair of linen drawstring trousers and a loose white shirt, buttoned halfway. He was smiling and in one hand held a sleek, black Nimbus 5000.

"Am I going to regret this?" Hermione asked as she waited for Draco to mount the broom and slide backwards to make room for her. He hooked one ankle over the brass stirrup and balanced on his other foot while holding out his hand for Hermione. She carefully swung her leg over the front of the broom, the hem of her dress riding up her thighs. Draco's arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against his chest, settling her snugly in place. 

"Are you changing your mind, Granger?" he whispered, his breath warm against her neck. Hermione gasped aloud as he kicked off from the ground and soared into the sky, the ground falling away from them in a misty blur. Draco leaned forward, pressing her closer to the shaft of the broom as he reset his grip on it. His thighs sandwiched her bare legs, flexing as he guided the broom higher and higher, until the lights of the village had become nothing more than yellow pinpricks of light.

"Yes!" Hermione screamed, her fingers digging into his forearm. Draco's lips moved against her ear as he laughed.

"Too late, Granger! Open your eyes and look at the stars...they're breathtaking!"

Hermione opened her eyes, gasping again, this time by the sheer, staggering beauty of the world around her. The Aegean spread in all directions, midnight blue fading to purple and gold where the sun had finally sunk below the horizon. The rocky little isles of the Cyclades dotted the seascape; brightly-lit yachts and sailboats clustered near the shores and far off in the distance, a sleek, white cruise ship sailed for Athens. 

Above them, the darkening sky was a diamond-strewn tapestry of stars, the Milky Way cutting a swath from one end to another. It was as Draco had said. Breathtaking.

Hermione's grip on Draco's arm eased and she relaxed back against his chest as he turned the broom in a wide arc, angling down towards the jagged, volcanic island of Milos. Draco's hand had drifted lower on her abdomen, his fingers splayed wide over the curve of her belly. She could feel him against her bum, half-hard and hot beneath the thin weight of his trousers. She shifted with him as he flew low over the tops of the sparse vegetation, feeling rather than hearing his muffled groan. The idea that she was so affecting him filled Hermione with uncertainty...and power. There was no doubt in her mind how their impromptu excursion would end. 

All that remained was for her to decide if that was what she wanted. 

Hermione smiled to herself as Draco brought the broom closer to a secluded, black sand beach, surrounded on either side by high, craggy cliffs. _Twenty points to Slytherin, for picking the most romantic spot in all of the Aegean._

The landing was whisper-smooth. Hermione slid off the broom, a soft, salty breeze catching her curls and brushing them across her face. Kicking off her sandals, she dug her toes into the dark, velvety sand. It glittered like finely-ground crystal, rich with the obsidian that was indigenous to the geology of the island. "Draco...it's beautiful," Hermione whispered.

Draco stowed the broom in a crevice in the rock, then joined her at the water's edge. Reaching out, he brushed aside her hair, his fingertips cool against her cheek. "Yes. Very beautiful."

The moment was pregnant with meaning, although Hermione was at a loss to put a name to the emotion that was beginning to flow between them. Lust, perhaps. Sexual tension...there had been that aplenty over the years, even those during which they had professed to hate each other until the day they died. There was something brewing between Hermione and Draco, something explosive and fertile, something so dangerous that Hermione was already trembling violently from the mere whisper of it against her skin.

Draco's hand dropped away, but his smile remained. "Let's swim."

*****

The sea was as warm as bathwater.

By the time they'd stripped to their swimsuits – Draco in thin, black trunks and Hermione in a modest blue two-piece – the full moon had begun to rise over the cliffs. Draco waited impatiently while Hermione carefully folded their clothing and tucked the bundle into the crevice with the broom. When she finally joined him at the water's edge, Draco took her hand and pulled her into the crystal clear water.

They played for a while in the tidal surf, taking turns splashing and pulling each other under the surface. At first, Hermione was uneasy; Draco was being terribly nice to her and while he had not actually been mean in ages, it was still enough of an oddity that she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But the longer they were in the water, the more the tension drained from Draco's face and body. _He's really having a good time,_ Hermione thought in amazement. _And so am I._

Draco swam up behind her, his hands catching on her hips as he struggled to stand against the weight of the surf against his legs. "I love it here...this has to be the best swimming spot on earth," he whispered against her damp mass of curls. He pulled her back against him, one hand sliding across her stomach, lightly but leaving behind a quivering mass of sensation deep inside. "Are you having fun?"

Hermione turned in his arms, staggering a bit as the tide tossed her forward. "Yes," she answered breathlessly. "This place is amazing. So, where's this grotto you were talking about?"

Draco reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. "See that arch over there?" He gestured towards a towering natural rock formation, arcing over the shallows. It was even blacker than the night sky, rich with the obsidian so common to Milos. Hermione nodded. "There's an opening just beneath the surface...it's there."

"Underwater?" 

"You aren't scared, are you, Granger?" His tone was reminiscent of the Draco of old. Challenging, arrogant, but the malice that would have once sent Hermione scrambling for shore, and her wand, was absent. He was teasing her, but not cruelly so.

"Of course not!" she snapped, lifting her chin in silent acknowledgement of the gauntlet thrown. "Lead the way, Malfoy."

For a frightening moment, Hermione thought he was going to kiss her. He leaned forward slightly, his fingers once more coming up to toy with a lock of her hair. His eyes, eerily reflecting the pale moonlight, were fixed on her lips and Hermione nervously licked them. She was dizzily aware of his other hand resting on her waist, his thumb stroking the wet skin beneath. "Malfoy..."

He let her go, reluctantly, then took her hand. "Come on...I want to show you while the moon's still high."

*****

The water where the arch soared overhead was shallow, but dark over the volcanic sand that made up the sea floor. They waded through shoulder-deep water until they reached the base of the arch. Hermione could make out the dim outline of an opening just beneath the surface of the water. During low tide, it would be well above the waterline. Now, it was several centimeters below the surface.

"Do you want me to go first?" Draco asked. 

Hermione nodded, trying not to betray her fear. "How far is it?"

"A couple of meters, maybe less. You can pass into the grotto in less than thirty seconds. I promise, Granger."

He seemed sincere. "Okay. I'm ready," she said, wondering what on earth she had gotten herself into. 

"Give me a few seconds, then follow." Before Hermione could reply, Draco took two deep breaths, holding the third, then ducked under the water and into the cavern. Hermione cradled her arms around her stomach, shivering in the cooling night air. With Draco's reassuring presence gone, Hermione suddenly felt profoundly alone. 

Taking several deep breaths, Hermione ducked beneath the surface of the water and swam through the narrow opening.

*****

Just as the effort of holding her breath became crucial, Hermione emerged from the tunnel into a larger chamber, carved from the rock by centuries, by _eons_ , of tidal erosion. Here the water was shallower, no more than waist deep, and as clear as a sheet of azure-tinted glass. The sand beneath her feet was as black as that on the beach and glittered like a bed of diamonds.

Struck speechless by the sheer, extravagant natural beauty of the place, Hermione turned in a slow circle, her hands outstretched and ghosting across the surface of the grotto's pool to keep her balance. The grotto was small in circumference, no more than a half-dozen meters across, the domed roof twice as high. The indigenous rock of the area – obsidian, granite, and quartz – swirled and layered one atop the other, streaked with narrow bands of yellow-gold sulfur. The blue light filtering up from the water turned the rock into a jewel-toned palette of color. 

But what drew Hermione's rapt attention was the ancient altar carved out of the rock on the far end of the grotto. A raw hollow had been chipped away, deep enough into the cave wall that a wide ledge had been left behind, the edges worn satin-smooth. The interior of the arch was covered with the remains of a mosaic, chipped and faded with time, but no less precious for it. Hermione waded closer, aware of Draco watching her from his perch on the ledge. She trailed her fingers over the sacred scene.

"This must be a _nymphaeum_ , Malfoy," she breathed, shivering as a cool breeze swept through the chamber, brought in through an unseen fissure in the cave. "It's...it's utterly amazing."

The water swayed against her hips as Draco slipped back into the pool. A couple of steps brought him beside her. "That's what I thought, too. It's even prettier in the daytime. The color...Merlin, Granger. It's like being immersed in liquid blue."

She nodded. The full moon outside was filtering enough light into the grotto that the water had taken on a dark, sapphire blue tint; in daylight hours, that color would be even brighter, deeper, as the water filtered out all other colors in the spectrum. She tore her gaze from the altar to look at Draco. He was watching her with a look so full of need and desire that she shivered anew, a blush darkening her cheeks. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked, her voice hushed for it seemed sacrilegious to disturb the peace of the sanctuary with anything louder than a whisper.

Draco shrugged, with false carelessness. "I thought you'd like it," he said. "You're the only woman I know who would appreciate it."

"Oh." Hermione looked back at the altar, the niche where icons and other artifacts to the gods and goddesses once rested now nothing more than a shallow indentation eroded into the surface, struggling to make sense of his words and the profound meaning behind them. The tension between them deepened and Hermione felt each breath catch in her throat. "I do. Appreciate it, that is. You were very kind to bring me here."

"Kindness doesn't come easy for me, Granger."

Hermione smiled quizzically at his puzzling words. "I think it may come easier for you than you think. I see you, you know. I see how gentle you are with Pansy; it must've been the hardest thing for you to do, to let her go to Ron."

Draco leaned back against the ledge, the water brushing against his hips and molding the fabric of his swim trunks to his legs. "As much as it pains me to admit, he's good for her. He loves her. And his love has made her a better person. I love Pansy, but I love her as a sister and how could I not want the best for my sister?"

Hermione nodded, knowing and sharing his sentiment. Ron was her first love, but not her true love. He would be forever dear to her and the most loving thing she could do for him would be to accept his choice of wife and love him all the more for it. "I suppose I was...jealous. Not because she had Ron, but because she had someone. Someone to love. Someone to share her life with. Someone to come home to." To her mortification, hot, stinging tears filled her eyes. She covered her eyes with one hand, turning blindly away from Draco as a sob bubbled forth. The soft sand gave beneath her feet and she stumbled, water sloshing up onto the altar. Draco caught her arm and brought her back around to face him, his other hand coming up to pull hers away from her face.

"Why are you crying? Please don't cry," he pleaded, his stricken expression softened in the velvety light. "I brought you here because I wanted to share the beauty of this place, not to make you sad."

He sounded so sincere, so worried about her well-being, that Hermione impulsively slid her arms around him, resting her cheek on his smooth chest. At first, he did not react, then Draco moved his hands to Hermione's waist, his fingers loosely curved around the swell of her hips. He brought her closer, fitting her against his body as if she were the missing piece of a mysterious puzzle, one whose scene was unknown without it. Hermione lifted her face to his, her eyes still glazed with tears which did nothing to mask the budding desire in her eyes. She was lonely, so lonely, and here was a man who had admitted to wanting her for a very long time. He hadn't yet told her himself, perhaps, but she could see the truth of it in his heavy, needful gaze. "Malfoy..."

Before she could finish the thought, Draco dipped his head and brushed his mouth over hers. His touch was light and fleeting, but as he pulled back to see Hermione's reaction, she followed him, rising on her toes to reach his lips. The motion dragged her hips across his groin, the silken expanse of her tummy pressing against his as she touched her mouth to his, tentatively, unsure if he would respond or shove her aside.

She needn't have worried. With a barely audible groan, Draco slid his hands lower, to cup her arse and pull her tighter against him. Emboldened by his response, Hermione dipped her tongue out to trace the curve of his lower lip, then sucking it lightly between her teeth. Draco's own tongue curled up, the tip drawing along the edge of her teeth before slipping inside, full and warm and demanding. The kiss was still this side of playful; they nipped and licked at each other in turn, not yet daring to take their first kiss to the next level. A level from which they both knew they would be unable to return.

But then Draco slid his knee between hers, pushing forward until she was riding his thigh with nothing more than the thin fabric of her bikini bottoms separating their flesh. The gentle motion of the buoyant water nearly made Hermione lose her balance, so she clutched at Draco's shoulders for support. Or at least that's what she told herself as she twined her arms around his neck, her fingers sinking into his wet hair, while parting her lips generously for him to more thoroughly ravage the inside of her mouth. 

Because she surely wasn't rubbing herself shamelessly against his leg, delighting in the rasp of his crisp, gold hair on her inner thighs. That wasn't her whimpering into Draco's mouth as he slanted his lips over hers, coaxing her tongue into an erotic dance with his own. She would never press her breasts against his chest, slide her hands over his shoulders, cup his face between her hands and kiss him with abandon.

No, Hermione Granger wouldn't do those things, but the woman she'd suddenly become would. 

Draco lifted Hermione and turned, placing her on the stone altar. The chill of the stone shocked Hermione and she arched forward with a soft cry. Pressing closer to her, right between her open thighs, Draco peppered her face with passionate kisses, then lower, pulling down the straps of her top as he went. 

As the tops of her breasts were bared to Draco's eager gaze, Hermione stopped him with a hand over his. "Wait."

If the mood in the tiny grotto hadn't been so supercharged with their shared desire, the expression of petulant dismay on Draco's face might've been humorous. Instead, Hermione couldn't help but find it endearing, that he was so impatient for her that he could still find it in him to pout like a child. "Why?" Hermione whispered, her voice echoing softly throughout the chamber. "Why are you doing this?"

Draco smiled, reaching up to tug one of her damp curls. "Because I've wasted enough time. Because I should've told you sooner."

Hermione caught her breath, her heart pounding anxiously in her chest. "Told...told me what?"

Even in the dim light, his blush was apparent. "That I want you. That I've always wanted you. I don't want to waste another minute, Hermione. I don't want another Ron Weasley to come along and take you away from me."

"Why didn't you say something sooner? You've always acted like...like you hated me." It was still hard to voice her insecurity, where Draco Malfoy was concerned.

Draco toyed with the straps of her bikini, rubbing his thumb over the soft, taut skin of her upper breast. "I did. When we were at school. But after...you were kind to me. You welcomed me, you made me realize that I wasn't lost. But I was afraid," he finally whispered, leaning forward to rest his forehead against her shoulder, his lips taking the place of his thumb. Hermione touched the back of his head, fingering the fine, platinum strands of his hair.

"Afraid? Draco...why would you be afraid?"

She could feel his smirk against her skin, followed by a lingering lick. "Would you have actually believed me if I said that I wanted to be with you, Granger? Then, you would've told Potty and Weasel and they would've hexed my arse all over Scotland."

He tugged the cups of her top down, baring the tight, rosy peaks of her breasts, one of which he was immediately drawn to, taking it into his warm mouth and suckling at her with languid hunger. The sharp, almost painful pleasure stole the thoughts right out of Hermione's head and for several long minutes, while Draco alternated from breast to breast, she could do nothing more than clutch him to her chest, her head thrown back in bliss. "D-Draco...wait..." she moaned, tugging at his hair in an effort to halt his ministrations.

"Don' wanna..." he mumbled around a mouthful of her nipple, his other hand cupping her other breast, thumb rubbing over the tip.

"Malfoy!" She tried to put enough force into her voice, in order to catch his attention, but it came out as more of a breathless moan rather than a sharp rebuke. Draco rolled his eyes up at her, the contentment in them bringing a giddy smile to Hermione's face. 

"Honestly, you men are all alike," she teased, lifting his chin until her nipple popped out of his mouth and he was once more face to face with her. Draco placed his hands on either side of her hips, stepping forward until he was lodged against her, his cock rigid and hot between their bellies. 

"What does this mean for us?" Hermione asked, her expression turned serious, even though she was quivering with want for him. "I don't do casual sex."

The muted blue light danced in his eyes as he smiled with undeniable affection. "There's nothing casual about you, Hermione. No wizard in his right mind would give you up after having you."

The hint of possession in Draco's voice surprised Hermione, but did nothing to dispel the quivering mass of lust in her belly. She hooked her ankles around his thighs to hold him in place and rubbed herself against him. The teasing look in Draco's eyes faded to one of pure need. "Make very certain that you want this, Hermione. There won't be any turning back. And I won't be your dirty little secret."

"Nor I yours," Hermione breathed against his lips, before aggressively taking what she wanted from him. Draco groaned in approval as she nipped at his lips, before plunging her tongue between them, taking control of their frantic kisses while he reached behind her and unfastened her top. He flung it aside and cupped her breasts, filling his hands with each firm globe. 

"Oh God, Hermione...," he gasped, as Hermione's fingers outlined the length of his cock beneath his trunks. He was already so hard, so ready for her touch, that it took a supreme force of will to not come the instant her fingertips found the bare tip poking above the waistband. "Yeah...touch me there...touch me, please."

With both hands, Hermione impatiently pulled Draco's trunks down his thighs, using her feet to push them the rest of the way and into the water. His cock bobbed free, dark and swollen against the pale flesh of his stomach. She touched him tentatively at first, then encircled him with her fingers, stroking the wet, steely shaft, not unlike the wicked naiad seducing Apollo in the pool's mosaic. 

Draco thrust into her hand, his knees buckling. He laughed, mildly embarrassed by his reaction to her touch. "Sorry," he said, trying not to give into his instinct to rut against her like a teenager. "I rather imagined I'd be a little more debonair about this."

Hermione rewarded his embarrassment with a scorching kiss that inspired Draco anew. Together, they wriggled Hermione's bikini bottoms down her legs, tossing them somewhere in the middle of the grotto pool. Draco showered her with more kisses, working his way between her breasts and down her stomach, but a hand in his hair stopped his descent. He looked up to find Hermione watching him with barely-concealed anticipation.

"Later," she whispered. "I need to feel you inside me now." Draco grinned in response as he rose up and kissed her lustily on the lips.

The position was awkward; Draco's hands braced on either side of her bum and her legs draped over his elbows, but when Hermione guided him to her slippery cunt and he thrust home with a guttural _"Fuck!"_ , any discomfort fled their minds in favor of the ecstasy of their joining. It was graceless and rowdy and oh-so-brilliant. Hermione clutched either side of the altar's archway for leverage, struck nearly speechless by the feel of Draco rutting inside her, reduced to breathless whimpers and cries of _Draco Draco DRACO!_

Despite the cool air in the grotto, sweat glazed their bodies as they moved together; Hermione drove her hips up to meet Draco's thrusts, the slap of wet skin-on-skin loud in the small chamber. The angle at which he was moving inside her pressed the base of his cock against her pubic bone, the friction of it on her clit quickly sending Hermione into a shuddering, gasping climax. Draco followed her mere moments later, his face buried between her heaving breasts as he weakly pumped his hips against hers until he was spent.

As awareness gradually returned to Hermione, she realized that a pebble was digging into her arse, but she couldn't be bothered to move. She was utterly boneless, her legs still limply splayed over Draco's arms. He'd slumped forward, his cheek pressed against her shoulder, his breath puffing in warm pants against her neck. 

Finally, the cramp in her hips became too sharp to ignore. "Owww," she whispered, threading her fingers through Draco's sweat-damp hair. "I need to move."

With a wry grin up at her, Draco shifted so that Hermione could lower her legs, pulling out of her in the same motion. "Sorry. I guess I was comfortable," he apologized as Hermione stretched the kinks out of her back. The lithe movement thrust her breasts forward and Draco groaned. "You're marvelous, Hermione. We should've been doing this ages ago."

"Fucking on a stone altar?" Hermione said, then blushed at her own bold words. Draco laughed as he lifted her up off the slab and into the grotto pool. Letting the warm water bathe the perspiration from their skin, they held each other tightly, once more drawn into long, languorous kisses. 

Finally, Hermione pulled away, turning so that she was floating on her back. "We've started something, haven't we?" she said, kicking her feet to stay afloat.

"Having regrets, Granger?" Draco replied, trying but failing to hide his discontent. 

Hermione rolled in the water, diving below the surface and pulling Draco's legs out from under him. He splashed down into the water and he grabbed her waist, curving sinuously around her body as they came up for air. "No, you silly ferret!" she cried, flinging her wet curls back. Her gaze softened at the anxious expression on Draco's face. She swam closer, twining her arms around his neck and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. "No regrets. Even if we walk...well, swim...out of here and never have another moment together as _glorious_ as this was...even then, I have no regrets."

The stormy look in Draco's eyes faded, to be replaced with a sly, teasing grin. "Like I said earlier, Hermione, we should've been doing this for years." 

"I suppose we'll have to settle for the years to come, eh, Malfoy?" Hermione breathed against his lips as she nibbled tenderly at the plump flesh. 

"I think I could put up with you for a couple of years. At least."

Hermione swatted at him playfully. "At least! You should be so lucky that I'd give you the time of day, Malfoy!"

"Speaking of which," Draco said. "Stay the night with me? When we get back to the villa?"

Hermione smiled softly as Draco pulled her into his arms, placing sweet, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her jaw. Moments before he took her lips again, she nodded. "Yes...I'll stay with you. All night long."

But the grotto would continue to hear their cries of pleasure long before the night passed into day.

~fin~


End file.
